Page 5 of The Killer's Payment

And this is the man I’m apparently gambling my future on.

My plan didn’t start out this way. Clearly, seducing the terrifyingly dangerous man was not my first thought. I’m not fifteen anymore, and there is a difference between fantasy and reality for a reason. No, I went through sobbing, begging, escaping, threatening, and bargaining before I arrived at my current conclusion. And I arrived there because, even if the other tactics had somehow magically worked, they all would have landed me right back where I started.

And that’s definitely worse than the worst potential outcome ofthisplan.

I’m still convinced of that, despite running his words through my head for the tenth time.Put your cheek down on that counter right there, lift up your dress, and I’ll show you.

Honestly—that was unexpected. I expectedsomething,sure. Practically dared him to come out with it. I just thought he was too hard, or too cold, or too…somethingto jump straight tothat.

But it has to happen one way or another for my plan to work. And as I stare up at him, pretending I know what I’m doing and that there’s a reason I’m dragging this moment out, I remember it could be so much worse.

At least he’s handsome. Sinfully handsome, with his dark hair and tan skin and immaculately peppered jaw. The type of handsome you notice at a party four years ago and still spend the occasional night with a hand between your legs thinking about. Not that I’ve ever done that. Nope. We just all know the type, don’t we? His body is large, strong, and defined. I can see it, sense it, despite the black button-down shirt and dress pants covering everything but his neck and hands. And he’s tall—which is just universally attractive, you know?

Not to mention the characteristic I’m most grateful for. He’s young.

Well,younger.

Closer to my age than the man who’ll be waiting for me if I can’t pull off this plan.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, lifting his stubbled chin, as if the taunt in his voice wasn’t obvious enough. “So sure of yourself just a minute ago. Was it something I said?”

I smile up at him, staring right into those dark green eyes, and shrug. “I just thought you might have wanted to exchange names before you fucked me. But I can see now you’re too impatient for that. Or… excited?” I let my eyes travel down to the obvious bulge between his legs before I brush past him and head for the counter. “Or is it…desperate?” I add, watching him turn his upper body to watch me while his feet remain firmly planted on the tile. “Don’t be embarrassed, darling. You’re certainly not the first, and I doubt you’ll be the last, either.”

His eyes narrow, and I swear there would be a tick in his jaw if I was close enough to see it. I turn away like a child who believes the monsters won’t get her if she only shuts the closet door. Stupid, really.

I try to think about nothing at all as I lower my head down on the cool granite. No witty comebacks. No internal meltdowns. No shame. I’m like stone, inside and outside, all except for my fingers, which I can barely keep from trembling as they reach for the hem of my nightgown.

I don’t let a single thought into my head when I lift it up.

That gets considerably harder when I know he’s watching, and the only thing I can do is hope the granite cools my flushed cheeks enough for him not to notice.

When thinking of nothing stops working, I think of the alternative. I think of standing naked in front of the disgusting man my father is about to sell me to. I think about his mouth slobbering all over mine. I think about how far I’d go, about what I’d do, what I’d sacrifice, to stop that from happening.

His presence behind me is more of a sense than a sight, and I realize it’s because I closed my eyes at some point. I snap them open when I feel his hand on the small of my back.

That hand confirms that he’sright there.

I shiver, despite being convinced I’m seconds away from burning up.

“Do you know what’s more adorable than this pretty little cunt of yours, princess?”

My stomach clenches at his words. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t think of anything clever to say, so instead, I just shake my head and feel a lot like how I imagine a mouse would feel if James Hunter were a cat.

He chuckles. “The fact that you thought I wasactually going to fuck you.”

The weight in my stomach drops instantly, only to be replaced by the barbed wire of his continued laughter. It circles and coils and crushes like a serpent.

I try to convince myself it’s just disappointment that I couldn’t do it and fear of the consequences as a result.

But really, it’s the shame of thinking I could.

The hurt of learningIcould, buthecan’t.

I stand up. Cover my nakedness. I can’t look him in the eye. Not now. I can’t pretend he doesn’t intimidate me, not when the way he’s laughing says more about how little he wants me than words ever could.

If he doesn’t want me, I have no power over him.

If he doesn’t fuck me, I’m still for sale.

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